


13 - A Truth for Christmas

by Kat_Lovegood



Series: Professor Layton Advent Calendar [13]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Advent Calendar, Advent Calendar Drabble, Gen, Post-Unwound Future, Unwound Future Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21784384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Lovegood/pseuds/Kat_Lovegood
Summary: The professor visits Clive in prison.
Relationships: Clive & Hershel Layton
Series: Professor Layton Advent Calendar [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557985
Kudos: 14





	13 - A Truth for Christmas

„You‘ve got fifteen minutes, Layton, better make it quick!“, Chief Inspector Grosky said as he opened the metal door of the prison cell. 

Strictly speaking, prisoners in the psychiatric ward were not allowed to have unsupervised visits. But Grosky knew that he could make an exception for the gentleman in the tophat. Hershel Layton had helped him and the Yard more than once – actually more often than the Chief Inspector could count – with a tricky case, and he had taken a special interest in this case. 

Every two or three weeks or so, Professor Layton would ask to pay a visit to Mr Dove. That was if he wasn‘t having any adventures to go on. In the past, his protegee, Flora, had often accompanied him, but since the fall she was attending university – and not Gressenheller at that. Grosky figured the young lady wanted to gain a bit of independence, and by what little he had heard from Layton, the man seemed both pleased with the girl‘s development but also lonely, as he was on his own once more. Especially now, as the year was coming to a close and Christmas was almost upon them.

„Good afternoon, Clive“, the Professor said as he saw the young man sitting on his bed. He looked sad, exhausted by life, but he still smiled when he saw the Professor.

„It‘s good to see you, Professor Layton“, he answered and got up to draw out the chair from the small desk for the older man to sit on.

„I would offer you tea if I could, but I‘m afraid that isn‘t possible“, Clive joked, but there was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

„Oh, it doesn‘t matter. I already had my tea, in fact“, Layton replied gallantly, always being the perfect gentleman.

„That‘s a relief then. I wouldn‘t want to deprive a gentleman of his tea. So, how is life going on, then?“, Clive asked. 

He didn‘t hear much from the outside world in here, with Layton being his only source of information. Time in prison went by slowly. They tried to keep him occupied, painting metal cars in the workshop down the hall, doing exercises in the prison yard and he had his talks with Dr Moebius. But it was all rather dull. Of course, he deserved it. He still felt guilty when he thought back to his trial, to the list of names that had been read there. He would like to say that he remembered every single name, but it was just too many. Too many people dead, too many people injured, and many, many more that had lost someone dear to them. Because of him.

Last Tuesday, three days ago, Dr Moebius had asked him a peculiar question, a question no one had asked him before. 

„Why did you do it like that?“, he had asked. Like that. Many people had asked him why he did it, why he destroyed London, why he… killed all these people. He had always answered because he wanted revenge on those that had murdered his parents. Dimitri Allen and Bill Hawks. But why like that? Why not organize the presentation of the time machine, and trap Hawks inside, threaten him there, force him to confess. He could have embarrassed him, ruined him right there. He could have killed him. No one else would have had to suffer. But he didn‘t. He had planned to destroy a city, his city, and everyone in it. And, what‘s worse, he knew Hawks wouldn‘t care. He had not cared about the death and destruction his little experiment had caused the city. He, in fact, hated Bill Hawks because the man didn‘t care about anyone but himself. Dimitri only cared about his work – and maybe that woman, Claire. Clive had known all of this when he made his plan. And he had done things the way he did anyway.

He had destroyed London, he had killed hundreds of people. And not because he wanted justice, not even because he wanted revenge on those that deserved it. No, he did it because he hated them. Hated the people that went on with their lives, ignorant to the tragedies right under their very noses. Hated the people that were luckier than him, happier than him. And, while they were sitting here, talking, he slowly realised that he had hated Layton, too. That he had been angry at him, for not letting him go to save his parents – or rather die by their side. For forcing him to live. Had he really wanted the other man to save him from his madness, or had he just wanted to hurt him. Was that just one more lie he had told himself?

And, while the professor was still talking about Flora and how she enjoyed her new life as a medicine student, Clive began to cry.

And, like he had done many years ago, on the day the two of them lost what they cherished most, Layton tried to calm him down. He didn‘t embrace him, not now, but he put a warm hand down on his shoulder. And Clive was so thankful, but he couldn‘t stop crying to say so, he couldn‘t explain his thoughts. He couldn‘t even pull away, feeling undeserving of such kindness. 

They just sat there like that, until their time was over. Clive‘s sobs become less frequent, and by the time Grosky knocked on the door, he had almost calmed himself down again, drying the tears on his face with a handkerchief. Layton got up wordlessly, but when he was just a step away from the door, he turned around once more to look at Clive.

„Merry Christmas, Clive“, he said. „I hope you will have a happy new year.“ 

It was such a normal, even formal, statement. Something you could say to anyone, really, let them be your wife or a brief acquaintance. But they were kind words, and that was more than Clive felt he deserved. Hell, he hadn‘t even known it was almost Christmas.

„You too, Professor“, Clive managed to say and the other man nodded, smiled briefly, and vanished through the heavy door. 

„Thank you“, Clive finally whispered.

The Professor had not heard him. He would have to wait until his next visit to tell him. But that didn‘t matter much now.

He had time.


End file.
